Baker Street Drabbles
by YourLoyalBlogger
Summary: Little drabbles about the lives of our favourite detective and doctor. Various genres.
1. Sleeping

He was lying on the couch, his head leaning on top of one folded arm. He was in his dressing gown, completely oblivious to the world. He looked so angelic when he was sleeping. Innocent and young. John's lips tilted until the formed a full smile. It was rare to catch him sleeping. He was usually all movement, energy incarnate. He must have exhausted himself this time. John crept past him, placing his work on the desk.

He was still as pale as ever. John noticed as he looked closer, slight bruises on one of his cheeks and the side of his neck. He'd been out and attacked. Idiot, did he think John wouldn't notice? They'd talked about this. When he got hurt, he'd go to John. They both knew how much he hated the hospital. Well hated wasn't really a strong enough word. John sighed and headed towards his room before catching a shiver from the prone form on the couch. Cold, the idiot was cold. John's lips twitched again and he brought his detective a blanket from his room, carefully placing it on his body and tucking him in, before heading to bed himself.

Sherlock opened one slight eye, just enough to catch John leaving. He wasn't cold now, his doctor had given him a blanket. Sherlock smiled. What would I do without you John?


	2. Bee's Don't Talk John

No John, don't laugh. Theres nothing wrong with this disguise. Besides its not my fault, this was after all your idea and you picked out these clothes too. You act like you've never seen me in such ordinary clothes before. I can dress casual. And why the bee shirt? Honestly? And why is it talking. Bee's don't talk John and if they did they wouldn't say such stupid comments. No, no stop it John! Please stop laughing. I'll pout John. You're hurting my feelings John. Why do you do this to me John? There you go again. Stop it! No, no smiling! I can't take it John, your smile is infectious. I hate it. Dammit John.


	3. Im Not A BabySitter

Sherlock was bemused as to why he and John had to babysit an infant for the next two days. It was for a case yes, but still. This was ridiculous. Mycroft's idea of a joke. Yes, lets force Sherlock and his doctor to look after a baby while they wait for an answer to the case. His mother was missing yes, but surely someone else could look after the...thing. Just because his mum works for you Mycroft doesn't mean I have to look after him, thought Sherlock as he watch John struggle with the baby.

"It keeps crying"

"_He_ keeps crying"

"Whatever, can't you make it stop?"

"_Him _stop Sherlock, him. Not it"

John fumbled with the struggling infant. He was a cute little thing but he was certainly a handful. He walked over and pushed him into Sherlock's arms. "Wait! No no no no! Where are you going?" Sherlock struggled in keeping hold of him. "He's hungry, wait here, Im going to get some formula". John, dammit, you can't leave me here to deal with this. "You can't leave me alone with him! I have no idea what to do!" John grinned. "Got to learn sometime Sherlock, be back soon!"

The baby stared up at Sherlock with wide blue eyes and started crying. "Great, just great. Look, um sssh. Shut up please, ooh just shut up" He tried to think what people usually did with babies. Rocking didn't help, bouncing didn't help, he wasn't going to sing a bloody lullaby either. Oh, oh! Of course. He placed the infant on John's chair and picked up his violin, beginning to play. It worked. The baby was sleeping now. Brilliant. He picked it up, not wanting it to fall onto the floor and held it in his arms while he waited for John to return.

John returned an hour later, having to go to more than one supermarket to find what they needed. He was greeted with the sight of a sleeping Sherlock, cradling the baby in his arms, also asleep. It was quite adorable, and definitely blackmail worthy. Where was his camera?


	4. Bruises

Drabble 4.

The case of the Blind Banker was over, finally. Aaaand Sarah was less than impressed with him at the moment. John could hardly blame her, she had almost been killed after all. He hoped his chances with her weren't completely ruined now. The doctor sighed, resting in his chair, head in his hands.

Sherlock exited the shower, now in his rather purple pyjamas. John still had his head in his hands, Sherlock grew slightly concerned. "Everything all right John?" He opened the fridge, pushing aside something congealing in a jar and taking out some orange juice.

"Is everything alright? Is that a trick question Sherlock?"

"You're stressed, Im sorry, I should have noticed."

"Damn right you should have. You completely ruined my date"

Wait what? "I ruined it? How?" He sipped his juice, quite confused. "They thought I was you! They kidnapped us!". Oh. "Well that was hardly my fault, though why they thought you were me I'll never understand."

"Urgh, you're impossible"

"I thought we already established that"

"Shut up Sherlock"

John frowned, folding his arms and glaring at the other chair as Sherlock walked aroudn him and towards the desk. It was then he noticed something. Something he hadn't noticed earlier. There were bruises around Sherlock's neck, bruises that could only have come from being strangled. &...more than once! He was strangled by those acrobats, but these other ones looked older. He stood, peering at his neck from behind.

"What are you doing?"

"You were strangled"

"Yes, you saw it happen"

"No, these ones are older, perhaps by only a day."

"Oh, those ones. Yes, I suppose I was"

John was fuming now. "You're supposed to tell me these things Sherlock!" He'd been strangled and John hadn't even noticed. What kind of doctor and friend did that make him? Not a very good one obviously.

"When?"

"When what?" Sherlock was getting lost in his computer, trying to filter out John's voice. "When were you first strangled?" Oh that. "At Soo-Lin's place. You were angry at me, I didn't see a need to tell you."

If that just didn't make John feel like a complete git. His friend had been strangled and all John had done was shout abuse. "Im sorry Sherlock, I should have noticed, you should have said something! Why didn't you call for help?" I didnt want to worry you John, thats why I didnt tell you.

"I did but its sort of hard once one has passed out".

"You passed out?"

"Yes, but only for a few seconds"

"You-, stupid bloody idiot" John paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. Sherlock had been strangled, he'd called for help and then passed out. John was feeling worse and worse because of his actions at the time. "I'm really sorry Sherlock, I didn't know, do you forgive me?"

"I always forgive you John"

John smiled, earning one back from Sherlock. "They must hurt, here let me help you". John spent the next half hour mending his friends wounds and treating his bruises. Next time, he'd notice, next time he'd listen.


	5. Jammit Sherlock

John opened the fridge, sighed and rubbed his temple.

"Why are there eyeballs in my jam?"

"Its an experiment"

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why my jam Sherlock?"

"I didn't know where else to put them"

"So you took my jam and thought: 'Oh John wont mind if I put eyeballs in here'"

"Im sorry I didn't think"

"Thats a surprise"

Sherlock didn't even look up from his book.

"What is?"

"You, not thinking"

"Look, Im sorry, Ill buy you some replacement jam later"

"No you won't"

"Ill get Mycroft too"

"You won't do that either"

John gave a scoff and a 'I can't believe you sometime' smile. Sherlock raised his head and smirked.

"You're right, great deduction, I won't"

"Of course not"

"Because I already brought some"

He lifted up one hand, a jar of strawberry jam. John suddenly laughed. "I hate you sometimes Sherlock". The detective's gaze went back to his book, still smiling.

"No you don't"


	6. But It's Christmas!

Sherlock awoke one morning to find boxes strewn across the floor. "Whats all this John?". "Christmas decorations". Sherlock blinked. "What for?". John turned and laughed. "Because its December Sherlock." "So?". "So in December we have Christmas". Oh. Right and John wanted to decorate the flat.

"No"

"No what?"

"You're not decorating the flat"

John raised his eyebrows. "Its my flat too Sherlock, you can't stop me" He reached into one box, talking out the parts of a plastic tree. "Thats not a real tree.". John grinned. "Great deduction!" "You know what I meant."

"You think I'd lug a real tree up all those steps"

"Seventeen steps are not that much"

"Yes well they are with a bloody tree."

"But not with a load of boxes."

"Shut up Sherlock."

John struggled to put it up while Sherlock simply watched. "You could help you know". "No its amusing watching you untangle all those lights." Said lights were then thrown in his face. "Then you untangle them."

"Shan't"

"Child"

"I am not"

"Are too"

"Am not"

"Look just untangle them Sherlock!"

"Fine". It took him less than ten minutes to untangle them all. By then John was adding other decorations. Together they spread the lights across the tree and added more decorations. Sherlock forgot his earlier dismissal of the idea.

"No Sherlock"

"Why not?"

"You are not putting it there"

"But its _Christmas_ John"

"You are not putting a santa hat on that skull Sherlock!"

"You can't stop me" He lifted the skull and hat above his head and laughed as John tried to reach it. A few minutes later and one stumble and trip over a box they were on the floor, a tangle of decorations, detective and doctor. And neither could stop laughing.

"I was wrong"

"Im sorry?"

"This was a good idea."

"Of course it was, I thought of it!" John grinned, laughing at the obvious amusement on Sherlock's face as he attempted to untangle his long legs from a pile of tinsel.

"Ill never doubt you again"


	7. Parties

"Sherlock you're drunk"

"Impossible"

John begged to differ as he was the one currently stopping Sherlock from landing flat on his face. "I told you not to challenge Lestrade". "But he insulted me John!" The detective gave a childish pout as they moved or rather stumbled up the stairs.

"Whatever you say Sherlock, you're still drunk"

"I'd never allow myself to get.. to get in such a state Joooohn" He slurred and elongated the last word, and reached up a hand, poking John in the cheek.

"Stop that"

"John"

"I have to admit you still speak quite clearly even though you're completely wasted" He pushed open the door, depositing Sherlock on the couch.

"John"

"Sherlock"

"John, your coat is furry"

"Yes, Sherlock"

"Like a cat"

"Yes Sherlock, my coat is made of kittens"

John knew it was wrong to laugh but seeing Sherlock in this state was quite hilarious. "Why is your coat made of kittens John?" Sherlock raised his head, very honestly confused. John laughed harder and threw his coat at Sherlock.

"I think you should change your tailor if they make them from kittens John"

"I'll keep that in mind" He poured a glass of water and handed it to the detective. "Here, drink up, you're gonna have a hell of a headache tommorow". "Not my fault, you wanted to go to the party" He pouted, taking the glass and downing it. "It was a new years party and we were invited."

"So?"

"So, one usually goes to parties if they've been invited"

Sherlock tilted his head, trying to work his drunken mind around that information. "Bu i've been invited before, I never go. 's Stupid. Parties are stupid". "You seemed to enjoy it though, I saw you dancing". Sherlock lay down, his eyes never leaving John's.

"I had to, Anderson challenged me"

"To Thriller?"

"Either that or Walk Like a Dinosaur"

John laughed again, his sides beginning to hurt. "Why are you laughing at me John?" He honestly looked hurt, god he looked so innocent when drunk. "Im sorry, i'd just would have liked to see that"

"I hate Anderson".

"I know Sherlock"

"He won"

"Yes I know Sherlock I was there"

"It wasn't fair John"

John didn't answer that comment, having left and taken a pillow and blanket from Sherlock's room and placing it on and under the detective. "Sleep Sherlock". "Not tired". "I don't care, you should sleep, its been a long night."

"Fine John"

John turned to leave, then turned back. "Why did you come then? If you don't like parties, then why come to this one?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at him.

"Because you wanted me to"

"You only do what you want"

"No, I do what you want too"

"Why?"

"Cause you're my best friend John.." And with that Sherlock fell off to sleep, leaving behind a pink cheeked and almost teary doctor.

"You're my best friend too Sherlock"


	8. Don't Leave Me

8

Blood slipped past his fingers, a never ending crimson torrent. As he lay against the cold pavement, he wondered if he'd ever see John again. John was going to hate him. He'd allowed himself to get shot and allowed the shooter to get away. How did he end up in this mess?

They'd been chasing a suspect and somewhere along the way, Sherlock had lost track of his doctor, but the importance of catching this man took over from worrying about John. He'd cleared a wall, jumped over the rolling bin and rushed around the corner. And then BANG!

Pain.

Blood.

He'd fallen to his knees, clutching his side. The shooter had turned and run off. Sherlock had leapt his feat but stumbled and fallen to the ground. Crying out as he did.

Now here he was. It was dark, cold. Sherlock felt tired. But if he slept, he'd never see John again. Never be able to say goodbye, thank you. He held on for as long as he could, but his eyes slowly slid shut.

John's legs pounded the pavement, he was panting and terrified. He'd lost Sherlock. Bloody idiot, where the hell was he! Mycroft would kill him if something happened to Sherlock and John wouldn't blame him.

"Sherlock? Where the hell are you?"

The sound of gunfire filled the air. John's heart stopped. "SHERLOCK!". He pelted down the street and turned into an alley. "Sherlock speak to me? Where are you?". There was a cry of pain that broke John's heart.

"Sherlock!"

He was lying on the ground, bleeding heavily from his side. Oh Sherlock, Im so sorry I should never have lost track of you. Please don't be dead Sherlock. He nervously raised his fingers to his best friends neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse beneath his fingertips.

"Sherlock...please wake up. You have to wake up!" John pulled out his phone, quickly dialling 999. Minutes later could hear the sounds of sirens filling the air. That only meant one thing. Someone was watching. Mycroft. Thank god.

"Sherlock, you have to open you eyes, please, please please" He pulled his friends head up from the pavement and into his lap, and removed his jacket, pressing it against the flow of blood streaming from Sherlock's side. "Please, please Sherlock" John felt tears trickle down his cheeks.

"John..."

"Sherlock!"

He tried to smile. He really did. Sherlock looked up at him, pain and confusion filling his eyes. "You found me John". "Of course Sherlock, just stay with me ok". Sherlock closed his eyes briefly before staring out in front of him. "You're my best friend John. Thank you-" He winced, tears filling his own eyes. He was dying, he knew he was. But he had to tell John. "Thank you for being my friend John"

"Goodbye"

"No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare give up. You hear me Sherlock!"

"But John-"

"No Sherlock, you're not going to die, I won't allow it. You hear me?"

"John.."

John was flat out bawling now, his whole body shaking. He wanted to tear into the shooter, into the person who had injured his best friend, his brother. Sherlock didn't give up, he never gave up. He couldn't leave John, he just couldn't, he wasn't sure he could take it if Sherlock died. Sherlock was his life.

"Sherlock please, just try. Just stay with me, the paramedics will be here soon"

"John..."

"Please Sherlock!"

"Don't cry John."

Sherlock was crying now. Please don't cry John, Im not worth it. The detective shivered, his face even paler than before, his lips taken a pale shade of blue. It was so cold and he was so tired. But John refused to let go. John was becoming Sherlock's lifeline.

"Sherlock, you're hurt, you're bleeding all over the ground, of course Im crying". John could here a vehicle stop and sighed in relief. The paramedics quickly taking over. Sherlock reached out a hand, wanting to hold John's, his tie to earth. John gladly took it.

"Don't ever do that again Sherlock"

But it was a question that fell on deaf ears.

High above, safe and secure, a figure wiped his eyes. Glad his brother was safe.


	9. The Sounds of Music

9

"Sherlock it's 3am in the morning!"

"So?"

"So Im trying to sleep here and you're not helping!"

"Im just playing"

"Yes, at .A.M"

"So?"

John threw his arms in the air.

"So, your playing is keeping me up!"

"Sorry"

"You're not sorry"

Sherlock kept playing, regardless of what John said. "It helps me think." "Just stop!"

"No". John stormed upstairs grumbling.

A few nights later, Sherlock awoke in the middle of the night to the sounds of a badly played clarinet. Confused, he crept into the living room, to find John on the couch, playing the instrument as loud as possible.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing my clarinet"

"You call that playing?"

"Can I help you with something?"

John pretended to look innocent and confused.

"Im trying to sleep"

"So?"

"Could you please stop playing?"

"Hmmm... no"

Sherlock ran his fingers through his curly hair. Oh, ok, he got it. This was John's revenge. How petty. "I see what you're doing"

"Do you Sherlock? Nothing gets passed you does it"

"This is your payback for me waking you up the other night"

"Not just the other night, every other bloody night! You may not sleep at normal times, but the rest of us in this flat do!"

"Alright, Im sorry. Won't happen again."

"Good"

Three nights later, the sound of a violin could be heard again.

"SHERLOCK!"


	10. Shipping

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

"Im on the computer John"

"Yes I can see that, but what are you doing?"

"Fan-sites are indispensable for gossip John, call it research."

John peered over his shoulder. "Tumblr? Never heard of it" "Im not surprised". "Anything helpful to your research?". Sherlock scrolled down the page.

"Not yet, but your blog seems to have a lot of fans that use this page"

"Really?"

"Yes"

John raised his eyebrows and sipped his tea. "What's shipping John?". "Shipping? What like boats?". Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. "No I don't think so." "Why do you ask?". Sherlock wasn't sure he wanted to answer.

"Because they ship us John"

"They.. ship? What like a friendship?"

"No... I don't think so."

"I wouldn't dwell on it Sherlock, its not important"

"You're probably right"

"Who's Dean and Sam John?"


	11. The Hearing Aid

John found Sherlock at the kitchen table, perched over a contraption of several magnifying glasses on top of one another. His hands were both holding some sort of tool over a... was that a hearing aid?

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

"Working"

"Thats not work"

"Ok, not working then."

"Whose hearing aid is that?"

Sherlock looked up. "Do you remember that eldery man who was in here yesterday?". "Yes". "Its his". Right ok. "So you're taking it about why?".

"Because it was bugged."

"Bugged?"

"Yes. He left it here on purpose."

John sighed, rubbing his temple. "And you know this how?". "Because I called him and he said he didn't lose any hearing aids.". Sherlock gave an exclamation and held up some little metallic thing.

"Is that the bug?" "Yes!" He smashed it under his foot.

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place?"

"More fun this way"

"Ok, who bugged it then and why?"

Oh John, surely that was obvious. "Who else but Mycroft? He's been trying to get his ears in here for months." "How do you know?". "You remember the toaster?" How could John forget?"

"Of course, you threw it out the window, with my toast still in it!"

"It was bugged too"

"Who bugs a toaster?"

"Mycroft"

John gave up. This situation was ridiculous. "Whats next then, a hair dryer? Is he going to bug microwave next? You Holmes's I swear you're just completely ridiculous."

"Why would he bug a hair dryer, do try and make some sense John"

John just laughed.


	12. Fez

It had been utter boredom that had led him to this moment. Complete and utter boredom. John and Sherlock were currently sitting in front of the tv watching Doctor Who. John would have enjoyed it if Sherlock had kept his bloody mouth shut.

"Why is he wearing that fez?"

"Because he wants to I don't know"

"And the roman, who is he again?"

"Rory, Amy's boyfriend"

"Amy's the dead girl"

"Yes"

Shut up Sherlock, just shut up please.

"This doesn't make any sense. Its a complete paradox, how did he get out in the first place? He had to have, in order to start the whole thing"

"I don't know Sherlock, I don't care"

* * *

><p>"I bet Rory's the security guard"<p>

"Sherlock will you just shut up!"

"He's wearing the fez again"

John sighed.

"Yes Sherlock"

"Oh look he's dead. Oh well, end of the story"

"Shut up and sit down Sherlock"

* * *

><p>"They are such a married couple"<p>

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Oooh, she shut the fez"

Please shut up.

"No no no, of course he isn't dead"

"See I was right!"

Shut the hell up.

* * *

><p>"He's still alive! Ha! I knew it"<p>

"John I bet Amy brings him back"

Damn-it Sherlock. Im never watching a show with you again.

"See I was right again!."

* * *

><p>"He's a really bad dancer"<p>

"Oh look its over"

"Whats wrong John, I thought you liked this show"

John gave a loud sigh this time.

"I do, but you wouldn't shut up the entire time!".

"Can we watch another episode?"

"Do what you like, Im getting tea"

"John?"

"What?"

"I want a fez"


	13. The Hangover

John was slowly typing on his computer, one finger at a time mind you, he'd never mastered the whole touch typing thing, when what should he hear coming from the couch? One particularly loud groan. He grinned, looking up to see Sherlock turn and stare at him.

"My head hurts"

"Oh, poor baby"

Sherlock's response was to throw his pillow in John's face. "Close the curtains and stop typing, its far too loud" He tried to bury his head in the back of the couch. "I warned you this would happen."

"I don't remember". "Of course not, you were drunk off your arse at the time"

Sherlock just groaned, John decided to take pity on his flatmate and went in search for something to soothe his aching head.

"Stop stomping!"

"Im not stomping!"

"And stop yelling"

"You started it"

He came back with some panadol and a glass of water. "Here take this, it'll help". His flatmate turned and grabbed for the glass and pills. "Woah, slow down!". "No"

"It'll get better soon Sherlock"

"I better not have done anything I'll regret later"

John smiled as he remembered the goofy dancing and the drunken comments.

"No, not a thing"

"Good, thanks John"

He resumed burying his head into the couch. John headed back to his computer and opened up a file. Then tried not to laugh as he watch Sherlock's drunken antics on the video he'd captured.


	14. Duel

John couldn't believe what he was seeing. Honestly they were both grown men, why did the sudden proximity to one another always make them regress to children? Sherlock he might have expected this of, he was an overgrown child. But Mycroft?

"No no no!"

He rushed forward, grabbing his laptop before Sherlock knocked it off the desk, the desk he was currently on top of. Thats right, Mycroft and Sherlock were having a duel. It was obviously a regular occurrence, but with a violin bow and an umbrella? Sherlock, still in his pyjamas and dressing gown, Mycroft in his green three-piece suit.

"You'll never win, _Sherly_" Parry, parry, thrust.

"I told you never to call me that, _Myky_!" Thrust, block, parry.

The detective leaped off the desk and resumed dueling from the floor, driving Mycroft backwards, towards the kitchen. John's eyes widened, the chemistry set! He rushed after them, every few seconds, catching a falling beaker or vial of green liquid.

"You've gotten better brother, but still you lack finesse"

"You won't win Mycroft"

"And you will? Such marvellous notions Sherlock"

Sherlock managed to drive his brother back again to the living room, but tripped over a beaker that John had apparently missed. John and Mycroft, who were both unable to see him from the living room.

"You ok Sherlock?"

John received several mumbled curses in at least 3 foreign languges in reply. "Sherlock?" The detecive limped out, bleeding from his foot. The idiot had stepped on the beaker. John sighed. "On the couch Sherlock" Mycroft put down his umbrella.

"The first aid kit is where?"

"Bathroom"

He left to fetch it, leaving John to examine the wound. "Stop fussing its not that deep". "But it hurts John". Of course it hurts, theres a bloody piece of glass in your foot! "Its your fault, you didn't have to start this." "He started it." Mycroft had returned with the kit and handed it to John, who quickly set to work.

"You still needed improvement Sherlock, lets hope you'll be better by Christmas"

"I take it you two do this a lot then"

John removed the glass, it wasn't deep enough for stitches but deep enough to be really painful.

"Ow!"

"Baby"

"You're supposed to be a doctor, wheres your bedside manner?"

"You're on the couch"

"Semantics John"

Mycroft smiled. "Yes every-time we have family get togethers. With real swords though." John shuddered, bandaging Sherlock's foot. "Oh don't worry, he's had worse injuries from this, so have I, though Im not quite as reckless as my brother" He pulled out his pocket watch. "Oh dear, must dash John, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister in... well you don't really need to know that do you?" He picked up his umbrella, gave a wave and left.

"Good riddance"

"Next time just be careful and don't walk all over the furniture!"

"I refuse to move around them John, when I can simply walk over them"

"You're impossible"

"Yes, I know"


	15. Of Deerstalkers and Pipes

Sherlock looked at the ridiculous garment lying on his bed and shouted from the door.

"Im not wearing this John!"

"Theres nothing wrong with it!" John replied from his own bedroom.

"Its stupid, I won't wear it"

"Its that or go naked Sherlock"

The detective flushed at the very thought. They'd been invited to a halloween party at Scotland yard. Run by Lestrade of course. The theme? Victorian. Sherlock had refused to go until John accepted the invitation. So of course he left John to get the costumes.

"But it's stupid John!"

"Look, you're bloody tall, its all I could find that might fit!"

"The suits fine John, but a frock coat? And a deerstalker! I thought I was going as a victorian detective!"

"Its the best I could do!"

"Would you boys stop yelling!"

"Sorry Mrs Hudson!" They shouted back in unison. Sherlock sighed and began to put on the suit. Nothing wrong with that, why couldn't he just wear this? "How do I look?". He turned, John dressed in a victorian three piece suit, complete with the fake chain of a pocket watch. "You look like Mycroft." "Thanks Sherlock" John had a gladstone bag at his feet, and a cane. "Why the cane?"

"Im a proper english gentlemen of course." "Fine, so long as you don't wear a moustache."

He turned back to the coat, hat and gloves.

"Just put them on Sherlock"

"Fine"

He pulled on the coat and gloves and then reached for the hat. "No self respecting detective would ever wear something as ridcilous as this." "Whatever you say Sherlock". He placed the deerstalker over his curls.

"Great, you look great Sherlock'" John failed to hide his mirth.

"Lies"

"Oh! I found these at a second hand store" He took out a beautiful looking magnifying glass and a pipe. "What are those for?". What do you think Sherlock? John rolled his eyes. "Well you're a detective so you need a magnifying glass and well theres no such thing as nicotine patches, so I got you a pipe!"

John looked so pleased at his choices that Sherlock had no other choice but to take the objects. He placed the glass in a pocket, it was quite beautiful, he may even keep it. But put the pipe in his mouth.

"Next time, I choose the costumes John"

"You look fine Sherlock, really"

Sherlock, glad in frock coat, deerstalker and suit looked at himself in the mirror. "I disagree, although... it is starting to grow on me." He poked the hat.

"Any hat is better than that fez you wore last week."

"It was for a case John"

"No it wasn't, now come on, we don't want to be late"

* * *

><p>And so, doctor and detective left 221b baker street via a hired horse carriage and Sherlock would later admit John's choices weren't so bad after all. But he still was picking the next ones. John would later agree, partly because the pipe had not left Sherlock's mouth since they got back.<p> 


	16. Birthday Blues

"He'll be fine Sherlock"

Lestrade sat next to the shivering detective, on the hard hospital chairs. He was still soaking wet, hadn't anyone bothered to see if he was ok? Probably knowing Anderson or Donavon, no. "Sherlock, it wasn't your fault". He refused to listen or even look up at Lestrade, his shirt and pants, dripping patterns on the floor. "Where's your coat?" Sherlock didn't reply. Lestrade sighed and removed his own, placing it around the young man's shoulders.

"Sherlock, look at me" And he did. God he was even paler right now, Lestrade could see his emotions so clearly upon his face he was rendered speechless. This was a side of Sherlock only ever revealed to John or perhaps Mrs Hudson, never anyone else. God forbid people found out he actually felt. Sherlock's was biting his lip, his whole body shaking. His eyes were the worst. Wide and terrified. Understandable, its not everyday your best friend nearly drowns in the Thames.

"He didn't want to come" Finally he speaks.

"I know"

"Said he had other business to attend to. Lying of course. I know what he was doing"

"Yeah?"

"Of course, I miss nothing. Planning a surprise party, no doubt why you called me off for a case"

Lestrade nodded, that had been the plan, it was a real case but the idea was to get Sherlock out of the flat for awhile so John could make arrangements without him knowing. It hadn't worked, he'd ended up following Sherlock anyway. Partly because Sherlock had texted him, obviously in trouble.

"He shouldn't have come, I shouldn't have texted him"

"He was going to kill you Sherlock. This is why I ask you to wait for us to get to the crime scene first"

And John had come to his rescue, only to be knocked into the Thames by the suspect. Sherlock had punched out the other man's lights and waited for John to come up. Only he didn't. John had hit his head on the way down. Lestrade remembered clearly. They had arrived to see it happen. To watch Sherlock's shocked face when John didn't resurface, to watch him as he dove in after him.

"He was…. so cold" Sherlock shivered, remembering how he felt, bringing his best friend to the surface and his heart breaking when there was no pulse. He'd kept his emotions in check then. John's revival depended on it. But now they were in the waiting room, waiting and hoping that John would be ok. He was getting the best care, Mycroft had seen to that. Sometimes his brother could be quite useful. Lestrade felt for the boy, boy yes thats how he'd always be to Lestrade. A lonely boy when they first met and a lonely boy right now.

"Mister Holmes?"

Sherlock and Lestrade looked up. "John, is he ok? Is he alright?" Lestrade turned to Sherlock shocked by the clear panic in his voice. The doctor smiled, "He's fine, he's awake and complaining. He wants to see you though." Sherlock wasted no time in rushing past the doctor and into John's room. The ex solider was pale with a bandage around his head. But otherwise seemed fine.

"Sherlock.."

"John! John I…" He rushed to his side, quickly examining every inch of his friend before breathing a sigh of relief. "Im ok Sherlock". Sherlock felt a hand on his shoulder again. Lestrade. "I'll leave you too alone for a bit, ok? Nice ta see you're alright mate" He smiled at John before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

"I was…. John, you were dead… I never …" He fumbled over his words. John gave a small smile, encouraging him to continue. "John… I never told you how much you meant to me. I…" A tear fell down his cheek. "You changed my life John..". Now John was crying. It was worth the wounds, to see the concern and love that lay behind those pale eyes. His friend had a heart. A big heart, but it felt too much, it was so young and vulnerable from being so rarely used. So it was easily broken. It must have done, John mused, when he found me not breathing.

"Sherlock… you changed my life too and… mate Im sorry"

"What for? What could you possibly apologise for?"

"I forgot to pick up your birthday present"

Such a strong change in conversation made Sherlock's lips twitch several times before finally settling into a smile. Then a laugh. "What?" John was laughing now too and then coughing. Strong hands patted his back until he was done. "I don't need a birthday present John"

"Nonsense, its your birthday, you need a present Sherlock. I already brought it. Don't you make me take it back."

"I dont need one John"

"Alright why?"

"I already got one tonight"

He looked at the floor, feelings weren't things he found easy to express. "What do you mean?" "You're alive John, best present I ever got". If that didn't make John start bawling again. Sherlock quickly tried to change the subject. "But don't think you're going to get out of getting me a gift next year though" He grinned, his comment making John laugh. "Im still giving you this one git!"

Sherlock's phone beeped, he pulled it out of his wet pocket, surprised it was still working. "Who is it?" John inquired. "Mycroft, who else? Says he's here with some dry clothes for me." "Good, don't want you to end up In hospital too, go on, Ill be fine Sherlock" We'll talk about what happened later my friend. Sherlock turned to leave, his hand hesitating over the door knob. "Don't ever do that again John."

"Ill try not to Sherlock.. and mate? Happy Birthday for what its worth. Still having a party though, you arent getting out of that! I put a lot of work into it Ill have you know!"

"I know John"

"Of course you do, now run along, best not keep your brother waiting"

Sherlock smiled and left, but not before seeking out one more person.

"Lestrade"

"Sherlock, everything ok?" Your eyes are red Sherlock.

"Your coat, here… um.. thanks"

"Not a problem Sherlock, John's fine?"

"Yes, yes, you can go see him if you want"

"Ill do that"

"Lestrade…" Sherlock started to walk down the hall, his back to the DI. "Thanks for…before as well…"

"Not a problem Sherlock, hope it helped." He didn't answer, but Lestrade caught the rare look of gratitude across his face before he headed down the busy hallway.

"Happy Birthday Sherlock"


	17. Christmas Dinner

"You can imagine the christmas dinners"

John honestly couldn't, until this very moment. Why he'd been invited he didn't know, he'd been pleased at first, honoured even. That was until the squabbles, the debates, the fact he felt incredibly stupid next to the lot of them. Father and Mummy, Mycroft and Sherlock.

"Pass the potatoes Sherlock"

"Piss off Mycroft" He was still miffed from loosing this years fencing match.

"Sherlock! Apologise to your brother at once"

"Never"

"Here Mycroft" John quickly handed him the bowl of potatoes, one of the few foods he could actually recognise on the table, they certainly had interesting tastes, these Holmes's. "Thank you John". "So John, I've been reading your blog, Im so glad our little Sherly has finally made a friend". Mycroft snorted into his potatoes.

"Mother, I told you not to call me that.".

"Nonsense darling, its an adorable nickname".

"Um, yes Mrs Holmes. Thank you"

"Elizabeth dear, Elizabeth."

"Yes um… sure."

Sherlock reached for the turkey, accidentally knocking over the gravy onto Mycroft's plate.

"Very mature Sherlock"

"It was an accident"

"A likely story"

"Behave your selves boys" Their father's first comment since they sat down for dinner. Mycroft responded to Sherlocks accident by tipping a pile of salt onto his brother's plate.

"Ooops, sorry _brother dear_"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and picked up a handful of mincemeat, placing it on a disused ladle. "The game is on, think fast _Myky_" and with that he flicked the contents onto Mycroft's clothes. "Oh you won't get away with this." He picked up his potatoes and chucked them at his brother's head. Sherlock ducked a fiendish grin upon his face. He used the ladle to get a spoonful of coleslaw, flicking it at his brother.

What resulted from all this was a large food fight that eventually even John got into. Their father continued to read the paper, as if this sort of thing were quite normal. Their mother sighed and kept eating.

"So nice to have the family all together for christmas"


	18. Drugged

John ran to the window, only to watch the darkly coated figure dash from the building. Why though? It was her house, what was she afraid of? What about her assistant?

..Crap, what about Sherlock? He turned around and ran back to his drugged friend. Who was still lying on the floor.

"Sherlock? Can you hear me Sherlock?" It appeared it couldn't or perhaps he was just not listening. Shit, what had she given him? He shook his friends shoulder's.

"Sherlock!"

"J'hn" John gave a relieved sigh.

"Mate are you ok?"

"J'hn?"

"Yes, I'm here Sherlock"

"J'hn.."

John. John was there. That was good..wasn't it? Where was there? Or here? Where was he exactly? Why was he on the floor? Why was the room spinning? Why was he asking himself so many questions when he clearly didn't know the answers? Did that matter? Maybe he should try and get up? No, bad idea. Very not good.

"Sherlock, I'm going to help you up, ok?"

"J'hn.."

"Yes it's John"

"Up?"

"Yes up, Sherlock. Ready? One, two, three and up we go!" The detective proved unable to stand on his own, leaning heavily on John's shoulder and going weak at the knees several times.

"Up, J'hn"

"Yes Sherlock"

"Dr'g?"

"Good deduction"

"W'll, am detecive..detect...y's"

John couldn't help but feel a slight bit of amusement at Sherlock's drugged state. Which wasn't right, he was a doctor after all, your friend being drugged was no laughing manner. But still..

"I'm going to sit you on the bed and see if Lestrade or anyone else has arrived, ok?"

"J'hn...L'str'de..ok"

"Not sure if you actually understood but just.. wait there." He turned to leave but felt something tug at his shirt. "C'me b'ck?". John smiled. "Yes Sherlock, I'll be right back." He left for the front door, Sherlock lay his head down on the comfy bed and watched the ceiling spin.

* * *

><p>"John? What the hell are you doing here?"<p>

"Helping Mycroft unfortunately. Ran into a spot of bother. Look long story short, someone drugged Sherlock, he's really out of it."

"Shit.. he's ok though? Or does he need an ambulance?"

"I think he'll be ok but we should probably get him back to Baker Street. This way, come on. Oh and theres a dead guy over in that room, booby trap killed him. There's a couple of unconscious blokes in there too."

"Jesus, what happened?"

"I'll explain later" You bloody better John.

* * *

><p>They found Sherlock lying on the bed, his head lolled to the side, his eyes glazed over. "Sherlock? Sherlock, it's John. I'm back". The detective tried to raise his head. "J'hn?"<p>

"Yes Sherlock. Come on, up we get, time to go home"

"H'me? J'hn" He lifted his head, but let it fall back down. "C'nt g't up. Stay h're"

"No Sherlock. Come on Lestrade, give me a hand" The two of them helped the other man up and onto his feet, he sagged between them. "Come on Sherlock, or we'll bring in a stretcher"

" 'm f'ne"

"You most definitely are not kid. Put one foot in front of the other. That's it" He obeyed the Inspector's command for once, his body still swaying, sweat pooling on his brow.

"You can do this Sherlock, not far to the car"

"J'hn"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Th're w's a wom'n"

"Yes Sherlock"

"She h'd no cl'thes"

"Yes I remember Sherlock"

Lestrade looked confused. "Who's he talking about?" John shook his head. "I'll explain later. Just the owner of the house, she was naked."

"Naked? Why was she naked?"

"Trying to impress Sherlock"

"Bloody hell. Did it work?"

"I think so"

"N'ked"

"Yes Sherlock she was naked."

"Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine..usually better. Look here's the front door"

* * *

><p>Anderson, Donovan and a few other officers were waiting outside for Lestrade's orders. "Get me a couple of ambulances, quickly!"<p>

"What's wrong with the Freak?" John glared.

"He got drugged Sally"

"What did he go and do that for?" Anderson reared his stupid face.

"He didn't do it on purpose!" Defended the doctor.

"J'hn. He's h're"

"Who?"

"St'pid f'ce"

"Oh come on!"

John laughed. "How did you know he meant you?"

"Well of course he meant...I mean. Oh never mind!"

Sherlock staggered back and forth, trying to point at Anderson and say something clever and insulting. "L'wer, IQ.. wh'le str'et!" He waved a hand around them, tripping over his own feet. "Sherlock" John sighed, Anderson and Sally laughed and Lestrade felt sorry and amused at the poor sod.

"J'hn, bl'me Myc, all h's fault"

"Yes I know Sherlock. We'll tell him off later"

"Pr'mise?"

"Yes I promise. Now come on, let the paramedic check you over so we can go home"

* * *

><p>If only things were that easy. Firstly he wouldn't let the paramedic check him, then he stole his stethoscope and then he somehow climbed up on top of the ambulance, claiming he was commandeering the vehicle for reasons unknown to them all. And then he nearly fell off it, almost giving John and Lestrade heart attacks. But that didn't stop Lestrade from filming his friend's antics, those and the ones that followed, on his phone.<p>

Finally they were able to get a hold of the detective and just in time too, he decided to pass out in John's arms. "Bloody hell mate, got your hands full this time." John rolled his eyes. "Wonderful, just what I needed. Hopefully he sleeps the rest of this off, the last thing I need is him wandering around the flat in this state." Who knew what sort of trouble he would get himself into? They bundled him into the back of Lestrades car and headed back to Baker Street.

Together they hauled him up the seventeen steps and into his bedroom. They decided against putting him into his pyjamas, neither wanting that job and simply removed his jacket, shoes and socks and threw him into bed, pulling up the covers. Lestrade wished John luck and left. John thanked him and went back to check on Sherlock one more time before he made tea.

"J'hn?"

"I'm here Sherlock"

"T'll, t'll Myc, if..he c'lls. H's a g't. Ok?"

"Mycroft's a git. Got it"

"An', didn't get ph'tos"

"I'm sure he won't care, considering we nearly got our heads blown off. Bloody good thing you figured out the passcode"

"G't l'cky"

"You don't believe in luck. Do you?"

"H'd too. Didn't w'nt you sh't" He turned his head, snuggling his pillow. John smiled and rubbed the back of his own neck. "Well, I didn't get shot, so you don't need to worry."

"Did w'rry"

"Aw, Sherlock. Just go to sleep mate. You'll feel better in the morning." But his friend was already asleep so didn't hear his advice, or perhaps he took it. Who knew with Sherlock? Hopefully it was the right advice. This was Sherlock after all. He smiled and fixed the blankets before turning off the light and closing his door.

"Sleep well Sherlock"

Tea. He really needed tea.


	19. Bored Games

"Bored"

"You're always bored"

"Bored. Bored. Bored. Boooooooored"

"Oh stop whining"

"So very, very boooooooored. BORED!"

"Sherlock! Shut up!"

The detective slumped down further in his seat, his legs kicking John's. The doctor decided to ignore him and continue to read his book.

* * *

><p>"John"<p>

"John"

"Joooohn"

Sherlock was now out of his armchair and poking the side of John's face. "John. John. John this is childish" The doctor threw his book down onto his lap making his flatmate jump in alarm. "Really?_ I'm_ childish? Me? I'm not the one whining of boredom. Yes I know you are going cold turkey but you still can shut the hell up. I don't care if you're bored. Go assault Anderson or something."

"Don't tempt me"

"You really don't need my help"

"It's just..so..boring" He whispered that last part, his hands gesturing as if to get his point across.

"Well go experiement and play a game or something."

"What sort of game?"

"Solitare"

"Too easy"

"Look, it's not my job to amuse you. It's to help you pay the rent...and solve crimes..and keep you from killing yourself."

"I don't try and kill myself"

"You are extremely reckless so yes you do"

"Do not"

"Do too"

"Not"

"Too. Oh don't start this again! Look, just go find a board game and we will both play that. Because I'm certainly not going to get any peace and quiet to read this book till you tire yourself out."

"Do we even have board games?"

"Mrs Hudson has some, found them in the linen closet"

"We have a linen closet?"

"Shut up Sherlock and go get a game"

* * *

><p>Five minutes later John heard a muffled shout and rounded the corner to spot a form on the ground, struggling under a pile of blankets and clean sheets. He sighed and went back to his chair.<p>

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later and another yell was heard, joined with the sound of tumbling boxes. "I'm alright!"<p>

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later and a hair tousled detective returned with several boxes. A playing card was stuck in his hair. John covered his grin and took the games from Sherlock before they hit the ground.<p>

"Why didn't I know we had board games?"

"I'm surprised you even know what a board game is. Because we have only played chess and cards in the past. I don't like chess because you always win and you don't like cards because I always win"

"I like poker"

"Thats because you have the perfect poker face. Now what did you find?" John sat on the floor and spread out the boxes. Quite the selection. Jenga, Battleship, Monopoly, Scotland Yard, Yahtzee!, Trivial Pursuit and Cluedo. "Which one should we pick?" Asked the detective. Jenga was missing pieces so it was quickly excluded from the list. Yahtzee had no dice, Battleship was missing some of it's battleships. That narrowed it down to four games.

John quickly decided Trivial Pursuit was out of the question.

"Why?"

"Because you have a useless head full of useless knowledge. So no!"

"My head is not useless"

"Yes it is"

"Now you're just being mean"

"Stop pouting."

* * *

><p>That left three. Sherlock was quite set on Scotland Yard, wondering if he could rope Lestrade into playing at some point. John said no and confiscated his phone. Sherlock pouted again. John explained the basic points of each game and Sherlock's attention turned from Scotland Yard to Cluedo.<p>

He still had a card stuck in his hair.

* * *

><p>"So the object of the game is to deduce which one of the guests is the killer?"<p>

"Which one is the killer, what did they kill them with and where"

"I see. Well, that shouldn't be too hard"

"Guess again, it's not as obvious as in real life"

John was delegated the role of Professor Plum, Sherlock had Reverend Green. Sherlock noted the weapons, a gold spanner, a gold dagger, a gold candlestick, a lead pipe, a very yellow rope and a Walter PP.

* * *

><p>"No, no it must have been the candlestick! It makes perfect sense!"<p>

* * *

><p>"No! It had to be Colonel Mustard! Don't defend him just because he's a military man!"<p>

"I'm not!"

* * *

><p>"No, no, no! It was the Library! It definitely was the Library!"<p>

"Nope. Sorry Sherlock"

"This game is ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous"

* * *

><p>"Sherlock it can't be the victim!"<p>

"It's the only possible solution!"

"It's not in the rules"

"Damn the rules!"

"Why am I not surprised"

"I've had enough of this game!" He picked it up, scattering the pieces on the floor, and John. He lifted it to the wall and stabbed it through the heart with his jack-knife. "Oi! Don't stab the wall!"

"It needs to be there. To remind us"

"Of what?"

"To never play Cluedo again. Now, lets pick one of the other games"

"God no. No more games"

"But I'm still bored!"

"Deal with it Sherlock"

"You're no fun"

"Yep, that's me, Mr No Fun. Now clean up, I'm going to order us some fish and chips"

Sherlock pouted again, please stop that it's childish, and refused to clean up, deciding to go sulk on the couch instead. John sighed and headed to his room anyway to retrieve his phone. God Sherlock was such a child. He quickly ordered some fish and chips for the two of them and made his way back to the living room. Which.. was clean.

"You cleaned up"

"Yes"

"You?"

"No a magical fairy came down the chimney and cleaned everything up for us!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. Tea will be here soon. Why did you clean up?"

"You told me to"

"You only do things you want to do"

"Well, maybe I was that bored that I decided to clean up"

"Oh. Well, thanks"

"Don't mention it"

"Ok I won't"

Sherlock's lips twitched upwards slightly and John grinned. "Coffee?"

"Black two sugars"

"Oh by the way, you have a card in your hair"


End file.
